


Past and Future

by Fumm95



Series: As Bright As Stars (BoL&S) [5]
Category: Blades of Light and Shadow (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Dealing with Emotions, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Let Tyril cry dammit, spoilers for chapter 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fumm95/pseuds/Fumm95
Summary: After returning from the Catacombs, Tyril is hard at work...
Relationships: Tyril Starfury/Main Character (Blades of Light and Shadow)
Series: As Bright As Stars (BoL&S) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655983
Kudos: 13





	Past and Future

**Author's Note:**

> I actually started this soon after finishing chapter 11, and it kind of still works with what we got yesterday, so I finished it last night when I should have been sleeping, whoops. Because chapter 11 came for my life.
> 
> There are so many scenes i need to fic but the game keeps releasing new good Tyril content and I can’t keep upppp. I'll figure something out, and in the meantime, you just get to deal with me spamming fics.

She was not entirely surprised to hear a knock on her door once preparations for the Ancestral Masquerade were underway. Between obtaining outfits and planning for anything that could go wrong to go wrong, there was much to do in the short time they had. She was, however, not expecting the visitor behind the door to be one young, pale-haired elf, wringing her hands and looking at her with a mix of concern and desperation.

“I know you probably have arrangements to make for the ball but… can you make some time right now? It’s Tyril.”

She closed her mouth, immediately feeling her muscles tense as scenarios, each worse than the last, flashed through her mind. “Of course. What is it? What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Just… come. Please.”

Nodding, she followed the other woman through the estate, from the more well-kept areas to the clearly lesser used, past empty, bare rooms and down long hallways which had clearly seen better days. Still, she had no time to look around as she walked; Adrina kept a rapid pace, so that she nearly had to run to keep up, until they finally came to a stop outside one of the doors, deep in the heart of the manor.

She drew a deep breath, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, though whether from exertion or worry, she couldn’t be sure. Her companion, however, hardly waited before barging into the room, her expression only marginally less frantic than it was before, and she had no choice but to follow.

The interior was relatively large and lit by torches that seemed to blaze with radiant energy, flickering and casting almost maniacal shadows. Racks lined the wall, equipped with various weapons, including some that she had never seen before. Against the far wall, practice dummies and targets, spaced evenly apart, drew a line across the room.

And there, facing off against one of the targets, sword in hand, with his back to the door, was Tyril.

Despite their less than subtle entrance, he didn’t appear to notice them, instead swinging at the training doll’s torso with a wide strike that only glanced off its side. He growled something in elvish, too low for her to make out, and swung against, this time connecting sloppily with the head. Even from her position by the door, she could see him shaking, though whether it was from anger or exhaustion, she couldn't be sure.

She stole a glance at Adrina, who caught her gaze and grimaced, eyes sad.

“How long has he been…?”

“It feels like since you got back earlier today. He’s just been here training without resting. I don’t know what happened down there and I doubt he’d tell me but…” Adrina shook her head. “I’m worried about him.”

She pursed her lips. “That is for him to tell, I think, but… Honestly, you were probably right to be worried. A lot happened.”

Bright blue eyes, so like her brother’s, met her gaze, desperate and beseeching. “He’ll listen to you. I know it. He may be a stubborn idiot but he trusts you. And so do I. So please, help him.”

“Of course. I’ll do what I can.”

She received a faint but relieved smile. “I am sure that will be more than enough. Thank you.”

As Adrina left the room, she drew a deep breath, nodding to herself in determination. Their conversation had not been quiet, but even so, he gave no sign of hearing them, no sign of even noticing her approach as she crossed the room, coming to a halt only a few feet away, close enough to hear his heavy breathing, his grunts and pants, as he drilled through his attacks, over and over.

“Tyril?”

He turned abruptly, so quickly that she wondered briefly if he was about to turn the blade on her, but the next moment, he seemed to recognize her, the sword dropping back down as his eyes widened.

“Csilla? How did you…?”

“Your sister.”

“Ah.” His expression smoothing back out, he nodded once, quick and efficient, save for his heavy breathing. “Of course. You can tell her I’m fine.” With that, he turned back to the practice dummy in a decisive motion, lunging forward once more.

Except, this close, she could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the faint tremble in his form, the way he avoided her gaze, all of the ways he was very definitively not fine, and her heart clenched in her chest.

“Tyril.”

Her voice was softer, though no less urgent, and as gentle as she could make it. That seemed to do the trick; she felt more than saw the moment of hesitation in his movement, the way he turned back in her direction…

And leapt forward with a cry as he stumbled, his practice sword clattering out of his hand.

“Tyril!”

She barely caught him before he could fall, wrapping her arms around him until he regained his balance.

“What are you doing?”

“Training.”

“I see that. But—”

“I have to keep practicing. I have to get better.” She tightened her hold as he tried to push himself upright, resisting his efforts with a concerning amount of ease. “If we are to face down… if I have to fight later, then… Then I have to be ready. Especially if I can’t even—”

“And you nearly _died_ earlier today. You’re still recovering, you idiot. You should be resting! Especially if you’re planning on facing anyone tonight.”

She glared at him until he looked away, sagging in her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing to me for?”

He sighed, low and heavy. “For giving you yet another thing to worry about.”

“Of course I worry about you, Tyril. I care about you.”

His response was so low that she could hardly make out the words, or be sure that she heard him correctly. “Perhaps you would do better not to.”

She shook her head, forcing a grin on her face even as he straightened, pushing away. “Too late now. Besides, it’s like we said to Lady Farin. Caring makes us stronger. The feelings I have for you give me strength and I would not change them.”

“The last time someone cared, she _did_ die.”

His words echoed in the chamber, not loud but still ringing out with intensity.

“Tyril…”

She hesitated, catching his gaze. There was agony in his eyes, a hint of panic lingering in that pained expression, and her protest died on her lips. Instead, she folded her arms around him, a swift but tight embrace that, despite his words, he leaned into, though she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was from any true desire for contact or sheer exhaustion.

The fact that he made no protest when she sat on the cold stone floor, slowly lowering himself down to join her was not lost on her. She sighed, shifting closer until their shoulders touched, and examined him, the way the weariness in his eyes offset the tense lines of his body and the stubborn set of his mouth.

“When did you come down here?”

She received a shrug, though without any hint of flippancy. “As soon as we finished. I need to prepare, get stronger, so I can face whatever creature has taken her form. She—it—“ He faltered, a hand curling into a fist in her lap. “I need to…”

“You need to think about something else, anything else.”

For a moment, the room was silent, and then he exhaled, hanging slow and heavy in the air between them. “Yes. I thought… I thought…”

“You thought you could escape from your thoughts here, at least for a bit. But it didn’t work.” She drew a deep breath, feeling her heart ache at the despair in his eyes as he stared down at his hands.

“I can’t. I _shouldn’t_. I… I failed her. I should have stayed. If I had known…”

“You didn’t know. Besides, even if you had stayed, you wouldn’t have gotten the letter until it was too late.”

“You don’t know that!”

He pounded his knee with a clenched fist, face flush with sudden anger.

“Tyril.” She paused, waiting until he looked at her, though his thunderous expression never changed. “Your sister said that the package didn’t arrive until after you left, after the masquerade. After she had already been down to the Shrine.”

Silence met her statement, punctured only by a dismissive gesture, his face still twisted with fury and loathing, and suddenly she understood. “Tyril.” She drew a deep breath, struggling to keep her voice even under the weight of her realization. “Tyril, who is it that you truly hate? That creature? Or yourself?”

His pause, longer by far than the last, was answer enough, even without the sharp inhale or the way his body tensed, every muscle on guard, his face carefully, mechanically blank, and her heart broke for the man before her, hurting and haunted by circumstances that were beyond his control, that nevertheless he still blamed himself for.

She laid her hand over his fist, unfolding his fingers and lacing them together with her own, slow and gentle. “You are not to blame for this, for what happened to her. She wouldn’t want you to kill yourself to get your revenge. She loved you. Through it all, she loved you.”

The grip on her fingers tightened, his expression twitching, threatening to shatter the stoic facade. “For so long, my only goal was to save my friend, to stop the Shadow Court for her. And in the end, it was all for nothing. Now what do I have left?” The eyes that turned to meet hers were not only pained but _lost_ , and she didn’t think before tugging him forward, wrapping her arms around him.

“You are allowed to be upset, to feel grief. That’s normal.” His hold around her tightened and she pressed her lips against his head. “And then we’ll find something new. Together.”

For a second, he seemed to tremble, his face buried against her shoulder, and then he drew a deep breath before pulling away. “But not now.”

She sighed, looking towards the hallway, where Adrina no doubt waited. “No, that would not be ideal. First, you need to rest and then we have an Ancestral Masquerade to attend.”

“And an imposter to stop.” He rose to his feet and she followed suit, pausing only to scoop up the sword and put it aside before making her way to the door. “But… Csilla?”

She turned to find a hint of a smile, hesitant and fragile but sincere in his eyes.

“Thank you.”


End file.
